


High Wire

by hutchynstarsk



Series: The Amazing Starsky and Hutch [2]
Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: AU, Circus, Gen, big cats, h/c, high wire, monkey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to "The Amazing Starsky"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

sequel to: The Amazing Starsky (circus AU)  
http://starskyhutch911.livejournal.com/711090.html

 

With special thanks to , for her help and encouragement. <3  
~10,000 words  
· Sequel to “The Amazing Starsky”  
· AU: Circus  
· Contains some angst. And a monkey.  
· Once again, I can’t vouch for the circus accuracy.

 

**High Wire**

by Allie

 

Starsky stood leaning casually in the doorway of the small trailer. He finished all but the last bite of his banana, picked it up carefully between two fingers and held it out towards the monkey, waving his hand a little to catch the small creature’s attention. When the monkey ignored him, he smiled and ate the last bite himself. Chewed, swallowed.

“Well, Hutch, it’s official. He likes you best now.”

Hutch was cutting pieces of raw meat to mix with vitamins and minerals and feed to his lion. He said it would get sick if it didn’t get enough calcium and other nutrients.

The monkey they’d adopted stood on his shoulders, grooming through his messy blond hair. It was still ignoring Starsky. 

Hutch looked up and smiled at him. “Starsk, you know that’s not true. He already finished a big meal, that’s all.”

Starsky smiled back at him, walked closer, and clapped him on the back. “It’s okay, Hutch. I don’t mind. I got him for you.”

Suddenly, at his close proximity, the monkey churred and leapt to Starsky’s shoulders. He blinked at the unexpected landing, and then reached up around for the monkey. “C’mere, you,” he said in a teasing voice, smiling. 

The monkey pretended to dash away from his hand. He reached up with the other—it dashed back. Then again. Hutch was smiling and shaking his head. Starsky grinned.

The monkey tired of the game and ran to his hand, allowed itself to be hauled around and cradled in Starsky’s arms. A very furry tail curled itself around his wrist and the monkey looked up at him, beady eyes shining brightly. 

Smiling, Starsky proceeded to give it the desired rub, working his fingers gently and carefully over and through the fur. The monkey twisted around so he could get its different sides, its eyes half closing in pleasure.

Hutch gave the pair of them with a gentle smile. “Likes me best, does he?” 

#

Starsky eyed the board in front of him. The tip of his tongue stuck out from between his teeth as he concentrated. His heart was pounding, but he knew it didn’t need to be. The board was thicker than a high wire and only one foot off the ground.

“Need some help?” asked Hutch in a silky voice, quietly teasing. He put a hand on Starsky’s back. “Why don’t we let our friend do it first?” He lowered the monkey down to the board. The furry creature ran out into the middle and wrapped its tail around the wood. “Now you’ll have to go out and fetch him.” Hutch gave him a goofy teasing grin.

Starsky glared at him. “Ha. Ha.” He still had a scar on his finger from when he’d done just that—gone up onto the high wire to rescue the monkey for Hutch. 

It had brought back a whole bunch of stuff about his childhood as one of the Amazing Starskys and his own training on the high wire. That had all ended when his father died in a tragic fall. However, it had also made him want to try again, to relearn things and conquer his fear, to keep his father’s memory alive through the practice of their family art—safely, of course.

“Want me to hold onto you?” asked Hutch. His teasing had started only after Starsky told him what he wanted to do but had then started hesitating about it. Since then, he’d been gently pushing. It got annoying sometimes, but nobody had pushed or encouraged Starsky for a long time. Or believed in him. So it wasn’t all bad.

He sent Hutch a quick frown and then stepped up onto the board to show he wasn’t afraid. He balanced quickly, but wished he’d taken off his sneakers. It was easier to balance with bare feet. You could sort of curl your sole around the rope, or in this case the board. 

He felt a light touch at his waist and looked down to see that Hutch had his hands there. He gave Starsky a smile and held on while he took a few steps forward. “You all right?” asked Hutch.

“Uh-huh.” His hands, big and warm, made Starsky feel particularly safe and well-balanced. He had a quick flash of poignant memory: his father first teaching him. Must’ve been very small, because he hadn’t been more than six when his father expected Dave to be well-balanced enough to stand on his shoulders without any support but his own balance. “You don’t hafta, Hutch. You can’t anyway once I move the board higher.”

“I know,” was all Hutch said, but he didn’t remove his hands.

Starsky walked the whole way across the board, pausing only while the monkey ran up his leg and wrapped its arms round his head. They didn’t talk, and Starsky just walked, keeping his balance easily, feeling that it was absurdly easy with Hutch’s hands on him making everything feel so very safe.

Starsky hopped down on the other side, and Hutch released him. “That was too easy. It was cheating. Should’ve been higher, at least.”

Hutch gave him a knowing smile and a pat on the stomach. “Well, right now it’s about keeping your balance, not height, right Starsk? You should keep it at this height until you can walk across it with your eyes closed.”

Starsky found himself nodding. “I could, in the old days.”

Hutch’s smile grew incredulous. “When?”

“When I was eight. Really, Hutch. Blindfolded was one way to practice getting better, when you weren’t up high. I was good,” he insisted. 

Hutch’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Well, Starsk, if I can help… I know I tease you, but I will help if I can.”

“You do already,” Starsky insisted. Hutch looked embarrassed at that for some reason, but Starsky didn’t know why he should. Didn’t Hutch know how much better he’d made Starsky’s life? He gave the big blond a swat on the side. “Really, Hutch!” he insisted.

#

Starsky sat at the tiny kitchen table in the tiny trailer they shared. Hutch sat on the step, cleaning his harness gear for the horses. 

The harness gear had little buckles and things and lots of leather; it jingled as he worked. He was using a very distinctive-smelling polish on them. To Starsky, it smelled like home, even though he’d not been familiar with it before meeting Hutch.

Starsky sat looking down into his lap where the monkey cuddled, scratching his fingers into its fur gently, occasionally rubbing it with just one thumb. Suddenly the monkey started to get wound up and whipped its head around and caught Starsky’s thumb in its mouth. Starsky froze, held very still between sharp white teeth. The monkey looked up at him; he looked down at the monkey. It released him, chattered, and sprang away to the top of the bunk bed. It wrapped its tail round the railing and screeched at them.

Starsky stood up and looked at it, then away. ‘Let him calm down on his own, let him come to you.’ That was what Hutch always said. It was also how he seemed to treat people. He gave them space.

Starsky moved to stand behind him, and looked down over his friend: blond head bent, big hands doing industrious things with the harnesses. He looked so sturdy sitting there. But in contrast to that, his fine hair seemed to glow in the light from the sun going down. Starsky thought how peaceful it was, and for a moment he felt warmly proprietary and protective. The very top of Hutch’s head had a small spot that was beginning to grow bald. It filled Starsky with an unaccountable affection and at the same time, he wanted to hide it, to protect Hutch so no one else could ever see this small weakness that was not Hutch’s fault. Nobody should look down on Hutch.

Instead he leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms, squinting out across the landscape outdoors: the circus tents, vans, trailers, cages and the circular horse training area Hutch had set up. 

“Do you think you’ll ever have a tame horse?”

Hutch’s golden head rose and he craned his neck to peer up at Starsky, blinked. “Huh? Don’t I?” 

Starsky shook his head gently. “Uh-uh. I mean a horse tame enough I could ride him. Or her.”

Hutch smiled and put down the harness and rose. He stood on the bottom step so he was shorter than Starsky now, and looked up at him, his wide face suffused in grins. “Starsk, I’m glad!”

“I don’t mean just ride,” said Starsky patiently. “I mean…like standing up. That’s something people do in circuses, and I’m real good at balancing. If I could learn to do that on a horse, I wouldn’t have to go on the high wire and it might be a better act anyway.”

“Oh.” Hutch blinked, his smile disappearing in a thoughtful look. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t know how to teach that.”

“You wouldn’t have to, bozo. I’d teach it myself or find somebody who knew.”

“No, I mean a horse. I think it takes a special horse with a lot of training.”

“Oh.” He stared at Hutch for a moment, who stared helplessly back. “Well, we’ll skip that, then.” 

“Hey.” Hutch put a hand on his arm. “Don’t let me pressure you to go back to the high wire. That’s your decision, okay?”

Starsky nodded. He felt sad for some reason that he couldn’t pinpoint, disappointed and melancholy. Maybe it was the sun going down, like the end of something. Maybe that was why he felt sad.

Behind him, the monkey made a sleepy sort of call, as if to say he wanted more attention, and why wasn’t anyone giving it to him?

Hutch gave him one of those gentle smiles that seemed to be his signature look. “You seem tired, Starsk. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Why don’t you?” countered Starsky. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be alone. 

“Nothing’s wrong, it is?” asked Hutch. “You don’t look happy.”

“I’m not. I don’t know why. I was a minute ago.”

“Was it… because I said we couldn’t do it about the horses?” guessed Hutch. “We could, you know. It would just take a commitment, and a lot of work. You’d have to be sure you wanted to do it, maybe find somebody who could help you learn.”

Starsky smiled suddenly. “I don’t know. But thanks, Hutch. I like feeling like there are possibilities.”

Hutch gave him a startled blink. “Well, of course. There always are.” 

Starsky turned and went to the bunk, yawning, and climbed into bed. It was higher than he liked to sleep, but he was used to that now. And the monkey liked the height; as soon as he settled down, it leaped to the pillow beside his head and cuddled up to him.

He was starting to drop off to sleep when he heard Hutch’s footsteps moving close to the bunk bed. “Night, Starsk,” said a soft, silken voice. A hand found his curls, rustled them. “There’s always possibilities.”

Beside him, the monkey chirred.

He could never tell whether he answered Hutch with a returned goodnight, or if he only said it in his dreams. 

 

 

Chapter two

When Starsky woke up, the monkey was missing. When he swung himself down from the bunk bed, he saw it curled up with Hutch. Hutch was still sound asleep and the monkey was curled under his hand, on top of his chest. It was a pretty picture, Hutch’s face innocent and slack like a sleeping child’s, the monkey like a trusting stuffed toy in his arms, except, wonderfully, alive.

Starkey smiled down at them, then turned away. He changed into his jeans and t-shirt quietly, slid on his favorite sneakers, and then walked from the caravan, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

The sun was nearly up. He walked towards the pungent smells of sausage and eggs cooking, eventually reaching and knocking at the door of a large caravan. The door opened and a large, round woman smiled down at him. “Come for breakfast for your lot, have you, Davey?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned up at her and tipped an imaginary hat. 

She turned away, lading big scoops of eggs and several large sausages into a Styrofoam container. “Hungry, is he today?”

“I’m sure he will be. He’s still asleep!”

She tsk’d, giving him a teasing smile. Starsky accepted the container and gave her a wink and a sort of half-bow. “Put it on our bill, schweetheart.”

He waltzed back to the caravan, held the container in one hand and opened the door with his other. The door creaked slightly; it was an old caravan. 

“Rise and shine, schweetheart!” said Starsky, grinning. He set the food on the table, then quickly dished out some of the fluffy yellow eggs onto a tiny plate and shut the contained just in time. 

The monkey was there, suddenly, and digging in with both hands. “Greedy little thing.” He gave its tail a friendly flick and smiled, then walked back to Hutch, on the bottom bunk. His friend was just awakening, a sleepy look in his eyes as he looked up at Starsky.

A slow smile spread on each of their faces, and Hutch’s hands closed over his top sheets, holding them up near his chin. Starsky gave him a teasing look and bent nearer. “Are you gettin’ up, Blintz?”

He nodded, and yawned once. 

“You better.” Starsky gave him a wink and turned away. Yesterday Hutch had been too slow and he’d pulled his sheets off him and tried to tickle his feet. 

Hutch was ticklish. 

#

“You shouldn’t let him steal your sausage.” Starsky nodded to the plate from which Hutch ate—a paper plate, because they both hated to do dishes. Starsky was keeping his own shielded with one hand whenever the monkey made a dart towards it. The monkey could be extraordinarily ill-behaved about food. But Hutch just let it take from him, flagrantly, without reprimand, as if it was the monkey’s right.

“I don’t mind,” said Hutch, eating another sausage with his fingers. The monkey took the last one, held it up between two small hands and gnawed on the top. Something about the way it gnawed—so fierce, with such a gleam in its eyes—made Starsky think of a predator. He remembered the time the monkey had caught a grasshopper; it had eaten it much the same way.

“He’ll never finish the whole thing, and you’re spoiling him.”

Hutch shrugged, and then reached up with his other hand, the non-greasy one, and pushed back his blond hair. It was a bit stringy this morning, hanging down over his face, messy. Starsky wondered when Hutch would get it cut. It needed it.

Starsky swallowed another mouthful of food. He turned around in his seat and put down two more pieces of toast. There was a quiet churr and a thump, and he turned around to find the monkey at his plate, eyes alight with triumph, one hand full of Starsky’s scrambled eggs. It had dropped the half-eaten sausage and now bit into the eggs as if they were a beloved reward, and if it didn’t eat quickly they would be taken away. 

“Scamp.” Starsky pulled his plate back and cleaned it quickly.

Hutch watched the whole exchange with a smile he tried to suppress.

“You encourage him,” said Starsky, after he had swallowed.

Hutch shook his head gently and brought his coffee cup to his face, hiding the smile on his large, pale mouth.

 _I love you,_ thought Starsky. 

The thought surprised him—and then it didn’t. 

Hutch got in Starsky’s heart with his big hands and his tender voice and soft smile. Starsky could ruffle the blond hair of the big guy all the time. Women should stand in line for him. He was like a big brother for Starsky, made him feel safe like he had a family again. 

Starsky had been so lonely after losing his dad. When his mom sent him away to his aunt and uncle, he never felt that he belonged to them. _I feel I belong to Hutch. He's the family I never had, after my dad died._

The realization was like a warm, bubbling pot of chili overflowing onto the stove. It was undeniable and messy but kind of wonderful all the same.

He didn’t know if he could’ve said any of this out loud. Even if Hutch didn’t misunderstand or feel embarrassed, it might as well have been the monkey saying it to Hutch. Hutch would smile and feel glad, but it would really just be another of his projects feeling gratitude. Of course he would not feel the same way back. He probably cared about Starsky much the same way as he cared about all of his rescues.

That was the one thing he didn’t like about his friendship with Hutch: that he was one of Hutch’s strays. He felt jealous sometimes when he thought of it, wistful, wanting it to be more than that, deeper, a friendship that went both ways and meant as much to Hutch as it did to him. Then he wondered what kind of pathetic person would feel that way.

Of course Hutch couldn’t help how he was: he just wanted to rescue every creature in need. That Starsky had been one of them was something for him to feel grateful about, not jealous over. Because Hutch was the best thing that had happened to him in years. He felt more confident, safer, happier and more at home now, as if Hutch had given him a tent peg to tie his rope onto, a place that would steady you, a place that felt like home, even when the circus moved around. That was something he hadn’t felt since he was a small boy, before his father died.

“Starsk,” said Hutch, looking at him, leaning forward. The light caught his pale eyes, made them look paler.

“Yeah?” 

Starsky realized the monkey was playing with his fork, and he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought to reprimand it. The monkey looked disappointed about that, tilting its head, bright eyes inquiring and mischievous. Starsky gave it a light flick with his fingers. The monkey dropped the fork, churred, and ran up his arm. Tiny, greasy hands fitted into his hair, and a furry tail wrapped itself closely around his neck: his furry scarf. 

He looked at Hutch again, feeling self-conscious and a little sad. He didn’t like to be this needy, to feel like one of Hutch’s projects. “What?”

“The toast, Starsk.” Hutch pointed one of his big fingers towards the toaster, and Starsky turned around and plucked both pieces out. He gave one to Hutch, and they took turns buttering with one plastic knife between them.

#

After eating, Hutch tended his animals. Starsky helped with some of it, things that required less actual interaction with the animals. He still wasn’t real fond of anything bigger than he was, and most of Hutch’s animals were on the large and dangerous side. Even the horses weren’t quite tame yet. And the bear that was, Coconut, still scared Starsky, though he was trying to get over that feeling. He helped clean some stalls, then went about his other work for the circus. 

He was sort of an odd-jobs man, doing whatever was required for setup and making sure equipment was clean and working. Sometimes he drove into the nearest town for supplies, anything somebody needed. He hadn’t been with the circus long, considering, but he fit in and his work brought him into contact with pretty much everybody one time or another. He got along with them all, too. Part of that, he knew, was because Hutch had accepted him. It had brought him a long way. 

But also, he’d worked in circuses all his life and understood the migratory life, the work, and the people: always different, always similar. Hard-working, disciplined, extremely physically fit. Lives lived on the road, a changeable family, sometimes with its own feuds and anger, but always understanding each other better than any outsider ever could. 

Since he had once been a tight-rope walker and now wasn’t, he knew there were people who discussed him: those who pitied him because of his father’s death, those who thought he was a coward for letting it affect him to the present day. ‘Coward’ might have been too strong a word: they thought he was weak.

Starsky had thought so, too, for a long time. Now he didn’t. It was hard to explain what had changed for him, because it also had something to do with wanting to conquer the tight rope again, to become what his father had been, and what he had been as a child. He _did_ want to conquer his fear. But he no longer felt like because he couldn’t already do that yet, because heights bothered him and his father’s death still hurt, that he wasn’t brave or strong.

Maybe it was something to do with rescuing the monkey from the tightrope and a gun, even when it was so hard. Maybe it was Hutch, Hutch who believed in him and watched him with smiling confidence. Hutch seemed to think Starsky could do anything he wanted. And maybe Starsky had started to believe that as well.

At any rate, he felt like he could stand taller lately, going about his chores and not caring about whatever people said about him. It didn’t really matter, did it? It was just words.

#

“Are you certain you want to try this?”

“Uh-huh. If I fall, you’ll catch me.”

Hutch regarded him dubiously. “What if I can’t?”

Starsky shrugged, trying to look casual. “It’s only a couple feet to the ground.” 

He didn’t want to fall, and if he did, he wanted Hutch to catch him; that was important. But all the same, nothing bad could really happen to him if he fell, not from this height.

He tried to explain to Hutch. “I need to practice, and blindfolded is a good way to practice. It makes you feel and balance with your whole body instead of relying on your eyes. My—parents always said it was a great training technique.”

“Your parents. Starsk,” said Hutch in questioning sort of voice. He looked at Starsky hesitantly.

Starsky gulped, put his bandana over his eyes and tied it quickly and tightly behind his head. He caught a bit of his hair in the knot, and it yanked uncomfortably tight, but he didn’t undo it. He stepped out onto the thin balance board, feeling his way with bare feet, curving each foot lengthwise around the hard, familiar wood.

Hutch’s hands reached out, landed one on each side of Starsky’s waist. They stayed tentative, gentle. 

Starsky felt half guilty for letting them stay there, enjoying the feeling of support they lent him. The object of this exercise had been to make it on his own, to know Hutch was there but to do all the hard work himself. But apparently Hutch had misunderstood. 

“You never told me about your mother,” said Hutch’s soft voice. 

It had an interesting quality to it, Hutch’s voice. Deprived of his sight, he found himself listening hard to it. He used it to distract himself, both from the anxiety about his current task and from the pain of Hutch’s question.

“Oh, she remarried,” said Starsky in a strangled sort of voice. He didn’t sound at all casual.

He heard Hutch’s perplexed silence. It was as loud as another question.

Starsky sighed. “She sent me to live with some relatives. My—stepdad and I didn’t get along very well.”

_And I was still afraid. I didn’t fit in. I was useless. I was… a reminder._

The thoughts and doubts and the old pains assaulted him, even hidden behind a blindfold. “It’s not important, Hutch,” he said irritably. 

“But— Okay,” said Hutch. His silken voice was quiet. It reminded Starsky of chocolate pudding.

“It was at another circus. I stayed with my aunt and uncle at another circus. I learned the other sorts of circus work that don’t require heights, okay, Hutch?”

“Okay. You don’t have to keep—”

“And I can walk this on my own.” He reached down and pushed those warm, strong hands away. 

“I know.” 

Starsky walked to the end of the board, brave in his anger, speedier than he thought he’d be. His heart was pounding hard as he ripped off his bandana at the end and turned to face Hutch, scowling. “And I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Hutch was standing closer than Starsky had expected. He’d followed Starsky the whole way. His eyes held a silent apology for bringing back painful memories.

For one moment, Starsky hated Hutch more than anybody in the world for seeing through him like this to all his broken places inside. For making him even more vulnerable, because if Hutch sent him away, too, how would he ever handle it?

#

“Are you still mad at me, Dave?” Hutch’s voice was quiet and contrite that evening as he approached the bunk bed. 

Starsky lowered his magazine partway and peered at Hutch over the top. “No.”

“Good. Because I wasn’t going to share this funnel cake with you, if you were.” He grinned, and held up a paper plate completely covered in the confection.

Starsky hopped off the bunk, smiling. “Where’d you get that? I thought they weren’t makin’ ‘em yet!”

“They set up the stand early.” Hutch’s smile was sly, shy, and pleased. He let Starsky take the first pinch of crinkled, crunchy, golden-fried batter. The powdered sugar on top, white like snow, turned his fingers immediately sticky. He licked them. His pride and annoyance forgotten, Starsky’s eyes fell shut and he savored the sweet, fried concoction. This. This tasted like summer and happiness and all the beautiful things in life, packed together and fried under powdered sugar.

“I’m glad you like it. And Starsk, I won’t ask about your family anymore—I promise.” Hutch sounded guilty. 

Starsky opened his eyes—to regard the white sugar clinging to Hutch’s moustache. He grinned, in spite of himself and found himself nodding. “Okay, Hutch.” He reached out, swiping at Hutch’s mustache. 

Hutch ducked and gave a snort of suppressed laugh that almost sounded like a giggle. “Watch it! Don’t make me spill—!”

And then the monkey woke up and took a flying leap onto Starsky’s head, screeching in excitement. After that, they were quite preoccupied protecting their fried treat from being eaten entirely by a ravenous little animal.

#

“Hutch, would you _shut up_? I’m tryin’ to concentrate here!”

Hutch backed off, raising his hands. “I didn’t say a word!”

“Well, you were _thinkin’_ it! Just stop believing I’m going to fail because I’m not!”

“Starsky…” He took a step forward as if drawn on a string.

Starsky held up a hand. “Don’t come any nearer. I can do this on my own!” He stood on the edge near the high wire he’d strung up—or rather, the low wire. It stood three feet off the ground. Not too high…except that he was scared by it all the same, and Hutch could tell.

Everything Hutch felt showed in his eyes. They seemed to reveal his whole soul to Starsky. He didn’t know how anybody could be as vulnerable as Hutch was, when it came to showing feelings. Sometimes it made Starsky a little scared for his friend, like he wanted to just wrap him up in a quilt and protect him. Hutch being Hutch, he could get hurt over and over again, all the time. He just didn’t know how to NOT care.

Now Hutch stood back and raised his hands. “I won’t say a word.”

“Good.” Starsky nodded with finality and looked down at the wire. He bit his lip. He could do this. It wasn’t hard. Three feet off the ground was… easy. 

He took one wobbly step forward. He was shaking a little, but his muscles remembered; he didn’t fall.

Each step he took, he felt he would fall this time. Then this time. Then this one. But each time, he stayed on the wire. His muscles really did remember. But so did his head. And when he reached the end of the wire, he felt so sick he wanted to throw up.

Hutch moved forward, as if pulled on an invisible string, as if nothing could keep him back now. “You did it, babe.” He caught Starsky’s arms, pulled him into a big, warm hug.

Starsky hugged him back, just as hard. His breath was shallow and ragged against Hutch’s shoulder. 

“You did great, Starsk. You did great, buddy.” One of Hutch’s big hands came up to rest on the back of his head.

Starsky nodded and kept his head down, against Hutch. He held on tight. Even if Hutch felt him shaking just a tiny bit, he couldn’t let go.

#

That evening, Starsky sat on the trailer steps, cracking and eating a handful of peanuts. Hutch sat on a folding chair outside the trailer, drinking a Coke. 

The sun was setting. A little radio with a crackled plastic front sat on the grass playing low, old music: Sam Cooke’s “Good Times.” Seemed like the song would last forever, in a good way.

_‘We gonna stay here till we soothe our soul, if it takes all night long…”_

That was what he wanted to do. And that was what this sunset did, this feeling of safety and home, and knowing he had tackled the wire and won. Suddenly he felt burstingly happy.

He caught sight of his little friend the monkey and grinned. “Here, buddy!” He stood up and held up a peanut. The monkey churred and ran up his leg and torso to get it. 

Starsky held his arm out as the monkey ran up to his wrist, grabbed the peanut from his hand, and ran back. He raised his other arm and lowered his first one, grinning at Hutch the whole time. The monkey’s feet were a familiar tickle, running and dashing and stopping as he ate his peanut, crunching and making a mess with bits of shell, red peanut papers, and legume crumbs.

“He loves me best,” said Starsky, for something to say. His heart felt so full, he couldn’t help teasing Hutch a little from sheer high spirits.

“I believe you.” Hutch smiled at him from his seat on the folded chair. He got up and walked over. He scratched the monkey on the head. Then he reached up and dug his fingers into Starsky’s hair to scratch him on the head, too.

Starsky pushed his face up, against Hutch, as if he were a horse nudging him. Hutch chuckled low in his throat. But his arm came up around Starsky, around the middle of his back, holding him loose and close. Starsky leaned shamelessly against him, not caring about anything else. 

He didn’t even care when the monkey crossed over to sit on Hutch’s shoulder and begin grooming blond hair, or when the song changed to something else.

#

Lately Hutch touched him more and more unselfconsciously than he’d ever dared hope for. A hand on the shoulder. A pat on the side. Hands tangling gently together when Starsky reached for the mustard and Hutch passed it to him at the same moment.

Hutch was big, strong, maybe just a little clumsy. But he could be so gentle, it melted something nervous and wary inside Starsky, let him relax, even revel, in the kindness of those hands. 

Before he met Hutch, he didn’t think grown men were allowed to hug each other, or be as gentle and caring as Hutch was—and Starsky was in return. But it just felt okay with Hutch, like they were safe together and didn’t have to explain or worry or posture for position, for who was the boss. Sure, sometimes they teased each other, but there was always the gentle awareness of warmth and connection that made it all okay, safe and fun. He hadn’t known you could have that and now that he knew, he reveled in it.

He relished their impromptu Monopoly games, their occasional serious, late-night talks, their jokes, hugs, pats, hair-ruffling and grins (sheepish, naughty, or just incredibly happy). 

He couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he thought Hutch smiled more now than he used to, too. He hoped so. He hoped it wasn’t just him.


	2. Chapter 2

Night. But it was hard to sleep with the monkey’s current antics. The furry creature hopped up with a dissatisfied churr from its place nestled by Starsky’s neck. With a determined little screech, it flung itself away and disappeared over the edge. He heard a loud ‘oof!’ from Hutch, not entirely displeased, as the monkey landed on the lower bunk. This was the third time the monkey had changed its mind.

Starsky sighed and made a face. He hauled himself up and hung his head down over the side of the bunk. He held on tight to the wood, felt the blood rush to his head. “Would you tell him to behave?”

Hutch smiled up at him, reaching up to stroke the monkey’s soft fur as it nestled down next to his long neck. It was a shy, friendly smile, somewhat proud. His hair was messed up and he looked very comfortable in bed. “He can’t make up his mind. He wants to sleep with both of us.”

“Well he can’t.” Starsky hauled himself back and flopped down to his pillow. “Honestly, you spoil that monkey!”

“Oh, and you don’t!”

Starsky turned around, punched his pillow into a more comfortable position, and flopped down and sighed again. He was tired; of course he was. Another hard day of work at the circus.

Today he’d been setting up lots of equipment—and practicing his wire walking. He was getting good; good enough to do it at least once a day. And he was now five feet off the ground. Though sometimes it still felt too high and he had to lower it for a bit for a day or two.

“Well, if he doesn’t make up his mind soon and get to sleep, we’re gonna be up all night!”

“Why should he have to? Come on down.”

Starsky blinked at the ceiling. “There’s not room.”

“I’ll make room.” His soft voice was hard to say ‘no’ to. Hutch would even let him sleep in the same bed? Would it really be okay? Sharing with Hutch?

He stuck his head out over the bed again, holding on tight, feeling the wood under his sweaty fingerprints. He was trying not to let heights bother him, but he had to fight back a sudden mental image of falling from the bed and landing on his head. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah. Come on down here.” Hutch, looking sleepy, patted the bed beside him. There wasn’t much room. At Starsky’s doubtful look, he began to edge over, trying not to disturb the monkey. It scolded a little, then settled down again, hands gripping against his neck. “Come on, Starsk.”

Starsky straightened up and climbed down. He straightened his pajama top, feeling oddly shy, as if this moment was special and he didn’t want to ruin it somehow. He lay down next to Hutch, stretching himself out gingerly. Hutch had only one thin cover. He must not get very cold at night. But Starsky did. His feet got cold.

Hutch smiled at Starsky. “A little closer. You don’t want to fall off. Here. I’ll make more room.” Hutch reached up and removed the monkey from his neck. He transferred it to lie on the pillow between the two men, then edged closer to the wall. Starsky heard him bump into it—sounded like a rhinoceros, clumsy old Hutch. Starsky grinned in spite of himself.

Hutch grinned back, reached over and gave his curls a rough scrub. Starsky ducked his chin and smiled. He felt humbled and shy and glad, when they settled down facing each other, monkey between them, content at last.

“You do spoil him,” whispered Starsky.

Hutch made a face at him, and reached for the blanket on Starsky’s shoulder, tugging it protectively higher, tucking him safely in.

_And you spoil me, too._

Starsky settled down, and found to his surprise he was warm and content. He fell right away into a deep, profoundly peaceful sleep, despite the crowded bed and despite the monkey.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt so rested and so warm. Nobody could feel cold next to Hutch. The monkey was gone, no longer between him and Hutch.

Starsky just stayed lying there for a few minutes, watching Hutch sleep. Then he got up and greeted the dawn, and bought their breakfast.

Fortunately Hutch was awake when he got back, because Starsky didn’t think he could’ve borne to be the one to take that peaceful look off Hutch’s face today by waking him.

They ate quietly so they wouldn’t wake the monkey.

Neither of them knew where it was sleeping till Hutch walked past the bunk to get a clean shirt. He gave a great shout of laughter, and Starsky ran to his side. Hutch pointed to the pillow on the top bunk where the monkey lay, curled peacefully, sound asleep with its tail curled rounds its face. At the noise, it blinked awake and looked up at them, startled and reproachful.

Starsky went back to the table, brought over a piece of warm egg in his palm and offered it to the monkey. “Today I’ll spoil you,” he said. He couldn’t begrudge it anything after he’d had his best sleep in years last night because of its mischief.

#

“Starsky,” said Hutch, a breathless sound.

Starsky looked up at Hutch from the safety of the caravan. He’d been cleaning up for bedtime, and his arms were still wet from washing. The hand towel hung over his arm and he felt the wetness drying to cold on his arms. The hairs on his arms prickled, and not just from that.

Hutch’s silhouette filled the doorway, darkened it. Something was wrong. Starsky didn’t know what gave it away, but he was suddenly terrified.

“Hutch.” He took one step forward, and stopped short.

“Could you hand me that towel?” said Hutch, sounding oddly faint.

He was clutching his arm. With the light from the sunset behind him, Starsky couldn’t see why. Then Hutch took one more awkward step forward, and he did: blood, bright as a carnival on his arm, on his sleeve. Too much blood. Gash marks marred the sleeve of Hutch’s favorite flannel shirt. It was ruined. Tiger claws.

“You can’t,” said Starsky. He moved forward like a surging wave, wrapped the towel around Hutch’s arm. He was shivering, his teeth chattering. “You can’t be. Siddown. I’ll call the ambulance.” A hand on the arm, a hand on the shoulder, and he got Hutch sitting. “Keep your arm up. You hurt bad? Press that tight.” A couple of quick steps into the bathroom and he grabbed another towel, wrapped it tighter, tight enough so Hutch winced and his sensitive mouth tightened in added pain.

“You stay right there. Hold it tight.” Starsky almost tripped on his feet running from the caravan, till he reached the nearest phone booth. It felt like a mile; it felt like two. How bad was Hutch hurt? _Because he wasn’t allowed to._

That new tiger. Starsky would kill it!

The ground flashed beneath his sneakers and finally, he reached the booth. His hands shook as he dialed.

He managed to tell the hospital where they were. Realized he was an idiot, because if he knew the directions, he could’ve driven Hutch there faster than they could get here. But he didn’t; they’d just set up here, and somehow, he hadn’t thought he needed to know where the nearest hospital was. Because he hadn’t thought Hutch would—

Because Hutch wasn’t _allowed_ to.

He raced back. Telling people on the way. He raced back and held the bloody towels tight, tight as he could, helped Hutch hold his arm up. Blood flowed down Hutch’s arm, made his shirt slick, blended them together because Starsky was slick now, too.

Huggy came and took charge, had Starsky grab a fresh towel, helped them change it quick. His voice was reassuring, a quick, competent noise, controlling the situation, sounding like he knew just what was going on and how to fix it.

Sirens came. Someone else was giving pressure to Hutch’s wound now. Hutch looked sick and faint, but his eyes sought Starsky’s, shocky, apologetic, appalled and afraid.

Starsky sat on the edge of the lower bunk, head in his hands, trying to make the whirling go away. He realized monkey arms were tight around his neck and an anxious chittering in his ears. The monkey was scared too, by all these people, all this blood. Starsky reached up with a trembling hand to reassure it, and got it bloody, too.

Then the sirens were there, in the back of his head and growing closer. Starsky jumped up abruptly. He pried the monkey off and ran from the caravan. There was one thought only on his mind.

It took him a couple minutes to find the gun. His hands were shaking hard as he held it in both of them, and stalked towards the tiger’s cage.

It paced restlessly back and forth, marmalade fur brushing the rusting metal fence. Starsky glared hatred at it, aimed the gun, and drew back the hammer. He almost couldn’t see through his tears. That ugly, awful cat.

“Starsky!

A thin cry, and not from close by. It was the only thing that could’ve stopped him.

“Don’t!” Hutch sounded appalled.

Starsky squeezed his eyes shut, forcing more tears out. His hand shook hard. He opened his eyes and aimed down at the ground, carefully, and fired every round into the earth. He jumped each time. The tiger went crazy in its cage, bounding and smashing into the fence, running to the far side of its cage and snarling back towards him.

Starsky dropped the gun and walked away.

Emergency workers were putting Hutch’s stretcher into the back of the ambulance. His face was white, his blond hair wild and plastered back, a bit bloody. Starsky walked over to him and saw the large, wounded, frightened eyes, the eyes of Hutch, impossibly, more frightened for his tiger than he ever could be for himself.

“Did you shoot him?”

Starsky shook his head. He watched as they loaded Hutch into the van. Watched dully, meeting Hutch’s frightened gaze, till the doors were slammed and it drove slowly away.

He went into the caravan, ignoring Huggy’s words and hand of reassurance. He threw all the towels into the garbage, stripped off his clothes and showered. The monkey even braved the water, wrapped itself around his neck, eyes squeezed shut against the waterfall of wetness, afraid to be alone. Starsky dried it with careful hands, because he knew now that Hutch’s animals mattered to him most of all: more than Starsky, more than Hutch.

Huggy came by. “I’ll drive you to the hospital if you want. They won’t let you see him yet, but they said he’s gonna make it.” Huggy looked at him like something was wrong, like Starsky had done something wrong or was standing on his head for no reason.

Starsky, already in his pajamas, shook his head. He climbed into the lower bunk, beneath the one thin cover. The monkey plastered itself against his side. He cradled it carefully with one hand and pulled the cover over them both, up to his chin. “I ain’t going, Hug.” He laid down his head on the pillow that smelled of Hutch and closed his eyes.

After a while, Huggy left. It took some time for Starsky’s tears to start up, and then to stop, but he got to sleep eventually.

#

When he woke up the first thing Starsky did was start packing. He threw everything of his except the bare necessities into his bags and set them by the bed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice.

The monkey started scolding him when he didn’t get breakfast, but he ignored it. He went about his work in a daze, working hard but showing no expression on his face, feeling nothing.

The monkey was clingy and stuck with him all day no matter what his chores. He didn’t try to send it away. Small, furry arms offered his only comfort, familiar and warm.

If Huggy told him to work with Hutch’s animals, he was going to refuse—even the horses. But Huggy didn’t tell him to.

He did, however, bring up Hutch a couple of times. “The doctors say the blond one will be okay. Has to stay in for a few days, though. He needed some extra blood and fifty stitches.” Pause. “You gonna go visit him with me?”

“I’ve got chores to finish.”

“You can take the time to see Hutch.” Huggy gave him a disapproving look. “Honestly, we all know you and the big blond are close. Everybody’s willing to fill in. He needs you now.”

“He doesn’t. All he needs are his stupid animals.”

At the upset sound of Starsky’s voice, the monkey chattered in alarm, arms tightening around his neck. Starsky reached up, patted it.

Huggy crossed his arms. “I don’t get you, my man. Hutch has been here for you more times than I can count. The one time he needs you…”

“He doesn’t need me. Besides, I called the ambulance. I helped with his—his wound.” He couldn’t look at Huggy. His hands were shaking a little at the memory of Hutch bleeding everywhere.

Huggy looked like he wanted to say more. But instead he went away.

Starsky thought that was the end of it, but no. When he was getting ready for bed that night, so tired he could hardly see but knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, Huggy knocked on the trailer’s door and pushed his way in. His gaze fell on the bags, and then found Starsky’s eyes. He shook his head. “No. Uh-uh, my man. You are going to see Hutchinson. You’re not running away.” He caught Starsky’s arm and steered him towards the door.

“I can’t. Hug!” he protested. “It’s late! I’m tired! I’m in my pajamas!”

“Throw on your jeans and a jacket, or I’m takin’ you like this. You’re not getting out of seeing him.”

“He doesn’t want me, Hug. He only wants his animals.”

Huggy glared at him. “He was _asking_ for you.”

Starsky wavered. “He was?”

“Uh-huh. Jeans. Jacket. Let’s go!”

Huggy waited outside impatiently. Starsky’s hands shook a little as he changed.

He squeezed his hands together in his lap when Huggy drove them to the hospital. It was after sunset. The headlights cut a swath ahead into the darkness. Starsky stared into it, unseeing. He’d made the monkey stay home, and he missed its warm hands, its fur to touch, comforting himself as much as the monkey.

“Hug—”

“It’ll be fine, my man. He needs to know he’s not alone. You’re the only one who can give him that right now.”

“Huh?” Starsky turned to stare at him, brow furrowing, confused. “What are you talking about, Hug?” _Hutch doesn’t need me, only his animals. That’s all he cares about anymore. If he ever cared about anything else._

Huggy shook his head. “Mm-mm. Can’t believe you haven’t realized. You’re the only person I have ever seen Hutchinson open up to.”

Starsky blinked.

Huggy pulled into the parking lot and parked. “I’ll come with you, man. Unless you don’t want me to.”

Starsky squeezed his hands in his lap. He thought of seeing Hutch alone, and his mouth went dry. What could he possibly say, now, to the man he’d come to care about more than any other? “I guess you better.”

He stuck close to Huggy on the way in, jittery and scared. He wanted to turn around and run. But he didn’t.

Huggy nodded to the nurse, who nodded back. “Did you bribe her?” Starsky asked, just for something to say. Huggy looked sly, and gave Starsky a wink.

When they finally got to Hutch’s room, Starsky wanted to disappear. Hutch was hooked up to an IV. He lay so forlornly in bed, his hair all messed up, his arm bandaged heavily, and his eyes—

His eyes looked so bruised, on the inside, when they looked at Starsky. So forlorn. He had never seen Hutch look so insecure and doubtful, so lost.

In an instant, he forgot his own nervous feelings, his anger and doubts. He walked to Hutch’s side and took his good hand. “You okay?”

Hutch nodded. His eyes held a real question. One Starsky wasn’t absolutely sure he knew the answer to.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” said Huggy. “Starsky, I’ll be waiting.” He shut the door behind him.

Starsky glanced around the ward. It wasn’t very crowded, but there were people near enough to hear, if they were awake. No one seemed to be, and Starsky realized that it didn’t really matter even if anyone heard. He and Hutch were private together no matter where they were.

He sat down on the seat beside Hutch’s bed.

“Are you… taking care of the monkey?” asked Hutch cautiously. As if he didn’t know what he dared ask anymore, if anything. Starsky hated to see him looking like that.

“Yeah. He wanted to come along.”

Hutch smiled the ghost of a smile. His hand tightened slightly in Starsky’s, then he pulled away.

Starsky swallowed. “You scared me.”

Hutch looked away, his mouth turning down. “I didn’t get hurt on purpose.”

“Are you gonna keep it?” demanded Starsky.

“I—I want to. He’s a good tiger, Starsky. I know he is, or can be. He’s a wild animal. It’s never the animal’s fault. I just wasn’t careful enough. I’ll do better with him, be safer. I got him from—well, a bad situation. He needs a good place to live.”

Starsky pointed a finger at him. “That’s not with you and not with a traveling circus. Find him a zoo or something.”

“But I think I can work with him, Starsk. I’m not sure how much of that he’ll get at a zoo. I—I want to help him.”

Starsky shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Hutch blinked nervous blue eyes at him, questioning, not understanding.

“No. If you keep him, I’m leaving. I can’t watch you kill yourself with your animals.”

“I—I wouldn’t. I’ll be more careful.”

Starsky swallowed. He spoke carefully, enunciating his words clearly. “You aren’t listening to me. You can’t be careful enough. Not with that thing. Not the way you try to interact with all your animals. You think you can save all of them. I know you—you love your animals more than anything else. But I can’t watch. I can’t watch you kill yourself.”

Hutch stirred. “Starsk!” he implored. His brow furrowed and for a moment it looked as though he was near tears. His hand searched for Starsky’s. “I—I won’t.”

Starsky tucked his hands under his arms so he wouldn’t be tempted to take Hutch’s hand. This hurt. But they had to tell the truth, finally. Because it hurt more to believe lies. “You don’t, Hutch. You never love anybody as much as you love those animals. But I can’t stand to watch you die. It would kill me.”

“Starsky!” His eyes sparked; his voice demanded; his hand reached out.

Starsky found himself taking it. Hutch squeezed tightly. “I—I don’t. I care about you. You don’t—you can’t think I’m faking. You matter to me more—more than I thought anybody could anymore. I’m—I’m not good with people. But I trust you. Don’t leave me just—just because of my animals.”

Starsky swallowed. It was hard, with his throat hurting so much from unshed tears. But he couldn’t give in that easy. “Will you give up the tiger?”

Hutch gulped, then nodded, tears in his eyes. “If we can find him somewhere good to go.”

Starsky shook his head. “Not good enough.”

“Starsky! Don’t push me, okay? I just agreed.”

He felt something tight and painful inside his chest beginning to relax. Maybe it was really true. Maybe. “Okay, Hutch. Okay.”

Now he needed to get nearer. He moved from the seat to the edge of the bed, and perched next to Hutch still squeezing his hand tightly. He put his free hand on Hutch’s chest.

The blond man blinked his wet eyes. He squeezed Starsky’s hand hard. “Don’t leave me, Starsk.”

Starsky stretched out awkwardly next to him, their sides pressed together, a reminder of sharing the lower bunk. “I won’t.” He reached up and ruffled Hutch’s hair, and leaned closer to push his face to rest against Hutch’s face and neck.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and thought of Dad, his smile heartbreakingly confident in memory, now dimmed with the years. The man Starsky had loved with all his heart, who had broken it to pieces when he died.

Finally he said the thing that mattered most. “Promise me you won’t die, Hutch.” His voice sounded small and muffled, holding all his fear, hurt, and insecurity.

“I promise,” replied Hutch in a choked voice, without hesitation. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Starsky pushed his face closer, breathing the smell of Hutch and disinfectant, pale skin soft against his nose.

“I love you,” whispered Starsky. “I can’t help it.”

“Me too,” gulped Hutch, squeezing Starsky’s hand so hard it hurt.

Starsky drew back and stared at him. “Really? I’m not just another one of your rescues?”

“No, I—” Hutch gave him a strange, brow-furrowed look. “Didn’t you realize? You rescued me.”

Starsky felt tumblers clicking and locking into place inside his head, his heart. A settled, peaceful feeling permeated him, and he smiled tentatively, but with a growing sense of overwhelming joy. It had never occurred to him that he could possibly matter as much to Hutch as Hutch did to him. That source of pain and irritation was now leaving him, forever.

He stared down at his friend, his brother, his Hutch: the only man besides his father he could ever, or would ever love. “How?” he asked.

Hutch’s throat bobbed. He still looked perilously close to tears. “Maybe I’ll have to start telling you sometime. But for right now, could you just put your arms around me, S-Starsk?”

Who could say ‘no’ to Hutch when he asked that? But he sounded so tentative, as if the answer had never been ‘yes’ from anybody who mattered to him before.

“’Course I will.” It was difficult in the tight spaces of the hospital bed, and avoiding Hutch’s wounded and bandaged arm. But Starsky managed; he managed.

When Huggy returned to take him home, he found the two of them dozing in each other’s arms. He had to remind Starsky of the monkey to get him to leave Hutch’s side.

Hutch’s sleepy gaze followed wistfully. Starsky turned back and waved. “I’ll bring him to see you tomorrow,” he whispered across the room, cupping his hands.

“You will not,” said Huggy. “I can only bribe so much!”

But when Starsky saw the big, incredulous, happy grin on Hutch’s face, he knew he would anyway.

#

“Hey, Hutch, look at me!” Starsky balanced with his arms out at his sides, wobbling only a little. He was six feet off the ground, and the monkey sat on his shoulders, chittering a little as if steering him, telling him how to balance and where to go.

“I’m looking, I’m looking!” Hutch shouted up at him. He watched proudly as Starsky walked the whole way across his practice tight rope, monkey on his shoulder.

Hutch sat in one of the battered folding chairs, his arm still in a sling. He was getting better every day, even though he still wasn’t allowed to wrestle with his animals.

The circus was due to move in two days time, and Starsky didn’t know how they’d manage to move all the animals without Hutch’s help. He still thought Hutch had too many, was burdening himself beyond human capabilities, but he was willing to be patient about it. If Hutch could change enough to give away his tiger, he could change more if he needed to.

People from a zoo were coming to get the tiger today. And Starsky didn’t even hate it anymore.

He bowed at the end of the rope theatrically, then started slowly and carefully back across. Maybe, in a month or two, he’d be ready for the real high wire over a net. He could hope. It would be nice to be useful, to follow in his father’s footsteps, to be once again an Amazing Starsky.

But either way, he knew he had Hutch, and the two of them were proud of each other, even if they never completely conquered their old demons.

“They’re here!” Hutch rose from the chair; it creaked. He started towards the large van. Even just by seeing his shoulders, Starsky could tell Hutch was tense and nervous. Starsky finished walking to the other side and climbed down. The monkey held on tight, as it did when he ran over to join Hutch, to stand by his side.

A large, dark-skinned man with a competent, no-nonsense manner was directing the removal of a large, strong-looking metal cage. “Over here. Now, where’s this tiger?”

Starsky pressed against Hutch’s side. His friend wasn’t saying anything, as if he couldn’t get the words past his throat. “I’ll show you,” said Starsky. He knew this was hard for Hutch, but the Blintz had better not try to keep his tiger after all! This was too important to change his mind about.

“Wait.” Hutch grabbed his wrist when he started to leave, big fingers nervous and clumsy, intense. “I—I want to be sure he’s going to a good home.” There was agony in Hutch’s voice. “Will you take good care of him, Mr. Dobey?”

Dobey’s gruff voice harrumphed. “Of course I will. I see that good care is taken of all our animals!”

“Well I know that some zoos…”

Dobey pointed a fierce finger at him. “Now listen, Hutchinson! We have better resources and more room than you do. If you ask me, private citizens shouldn’t even be allowed to own big cats unless they have special licenses. And unless you have a degree in large cat care, he’s certain to do better with us. Now if you don’t mind, show me the animal!”

Starsky glanced worriedly at Hutch, but whatever he’d got from that speech, it had made Hutch relax. In fact, he was almost smiling. “I’ll take you there.”

Starsky followed them and watched from a few yards away while Hutch bent down and held his hand to the wire. His good hand, the one he could move. The tiger sniffed him loudly through the fence. Hutch’s head bent. Starsky couldn’t hear the words, but knew Hutch was saying goodbye. When Hutch rose and walked back, quickly, to Starsky’s side, there were tears in his eyes.

Starsky led him away into their trailer. Hutch didn’t need to watch them move the tiger. It hurt him too much.

Starsky kept his hand on Hutch’s side for some small measure of comfort. “I’ll never understand how you can love something so much after it hurt you so much, Blintz.”

“Don’t ask me to explain. But I feel like I’m giving away my baby. Animals… were the only things that ever loved me.”

“Not anymore,” said Starsky, and wrapped his arms protectively, fiercely, gently around his Hutch. Hutch buried his face in Starsky’s shoulder. The monkey wriggled its way between them, fierce in its own need for love, making the warm, furry middle to a sandwich, holding on and not letting go.

The three of them stayed there till the tiger was gone. Then Starsky went to get their supper, leaving Hutch to play gently with the monkey, running his fingers through its fur and tweaking its tail lightly. As he left, he saw the faint smile on Hutch’s face. Then he knew it would be all right.

The sun was setting, and it was with a lighter heart that Starsky walked past the empty tiger cage, whistling a little. That was all the proof he needed, or ever would need.

Supper was roast beef and mashed potatoes, a feast for the three of them. Starsky ate all of his, but Hutch shared, as usual, with the monkey.

At bedtime, they piled into the lower bunk, careful of Hutch’s arm, close together for the distraction and comfort of not being alone. Hutch talked of tigers, how they had so long filled his dreams. Starsky listened, not offering advice, not trying to fix it, just being there. The monkey entered sleep complaining because Hutch was still talking. It curled its tail around Hutch’s wrist and held onto Starsky’s pajama top with little monkey hands.

Hutch’s sad words turned to yawns. His blinks grew heavier. The furrow on his brow lightened, disappeared. He shifted his legs a little and lay still, breathing deep and even. Starsky watched him, hoped he’d stay asleep and not have bad dreams.

Whether Mr. Dobey really would take good enough care of the tiger or not, he certainly hoped Hutch would think so, would believe it and not worry about the animal, his deadly ex-charge.

The monkey’s grip loosened in sleep. Starsky gazed down at the being that looked so innocent asleep, as if it had never done anything naughty in its small, energetic life. Starsky gently kissed the top of its head, and followed it and Hutch down into sleep.

His dreams were full of inconsequential things, but even in them, he was never alone anymore.

 

>>


End file.
